


You Are the Moon That Breaks the Night For Which I Have to Howl

by aybeexinfinity



Category: Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Smut, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aybeexinfinity/pseuds/aybeexinfinity
Summary: Everyone has a dying wish. Some Werewolves wish for cures; some Vampires wish for revenge.
Relationships: Gabriel Van Helsing/Original Female Character(s)





	1. If You Could Only See the Beast You Made of Me

There’s a fine line between desire and necessity, and quite often things seem to overlap into both. When a Vampire thirsts for blood, it is the worst of both feelings. It is the painful, heavy necessity in order to survive; but it is also the slicing and inflamed desire to drink. It was rare for a Vampire to feel anything as strong as the yearning for fresh blood being delivered by a beating heart, but it happened now and again. Stirrings. Feelings.  
  
The complete and absolute demand of revenge.  
  
She kept to the shadows, working the night to her advantage. The moonlight was drowned out by the flame-lit lamp posts scattered through the town square. He stuck out like a sore thumb, with his ridiculous clothing and his bloodied hands and his empty cross-bow. An unfair advantage against the creatures of the night; but they didn’t exactly keep a level playing field.  
  
The monk scurried after him, hands full of odd items that had been brought as weapons: vials of holy water, steaks of various sizes, and a pile of wooden arrows that would no doubt fit just as perfectly into that crossbow as they would into a dead heart. The people in the square hushed as he passed, turning to each other and whispering, Van Helsing, Van Helsing, big bad Van Helsing. The Vatican’s secret weapon with a deadly secret of his own. She wondered how long he could keep his dangerous love of the moon from the people he served.  
  
She stumbled and gripped the wall for support, catching her breath before returning to the hunt. He was nearly out of her sight now, and she worked quickly to regain the advantage. Darting back down the alley she wormed her way behind the old buildings, past the overrun brothel where clients had been taken out back to get their money’s worth, past the church with the pictures of saints that she would no longer be able to see, preaching promises of a heaven she would no longer be welcome in.  
  
The two men got onto a carriage and sped off into the night. They were taking the path through the forest, one easy enough to stay close to while remaining hidden. The forest was being merciful tonight; the weather, however, was not. There was a ferocious wind with frigid rain, and it did nothing to help her worsening condition. But she ran, ran as fast as his Transylvanian horses. She thought about ripping their throats out, her hunger getting more out of hand by the second, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Nothing would help.  
  
When they rounded a bend and came upon a large castle the horses finally slowed. There was an attendant there to take the horses to a stable while the target and the collateral went inside. She waited a few minutes for good measure before scaling a wall and going in through a window. It was a small relief to be out of the rain, but she was much more interested in what she was here to do.  
  
She could hear the both of them, every move they made. Their fragile human hearts beating as they walked up the staircase. She stayed put in the room she’d come into, some study or library. It was a huge, open room with only one small recess in the wall to hide in. Their footsteps loomed closer as she pushed herself into the space, trying to steady her shaking legs.  
  
“You’ve got the entire Vatican at your disposal and you still haven’t found anything?” Van Helsing asked irritably as he stomped into the room, turning up the gas being fed to the lamps to give the place light. The shadow barely covered her body, but they were too busy focused on their argument.  
  
“You say that like I haven’t been trying at all.” The monk whimpered, laying down all the weapons on a table, nearly dropping the vials of holy water. “There were only a few drops of Dracula’s cure in the needle, it was hardly enough to get the break down once let alone try to multiply it.”  
  
“But we already know the cure isn’t permanent, Carl!” Van Helsing roared. Just the sound of his voice infuriated her, she was tempted to get it over with right now; but she had to wait for the right moment.  
  
“I-I’ve been working on it as much as I could—do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from them?” He grumbled, crossing the room and stopping at the desk around the corner from the girl. She took a deep breath and jumped out, grabbing a hold of him and flipping him around so he acted like a shield before her. “Oh God.”  
  
“Who the hell are you?” Van Helsing demanded, eyes wide. She edged closer with the monk in a death grip until she had a clear shot at the man. She bared her fangs, hovering them just above the monk’s neck as a warning.  
  
“One move and I kill him.” Her body was shaking as the virus swarmed inside her, creating a war between her blood cells. It was so painful, being that close to fresh blood yet unable to drink. She could feel his pulse with the tips of her fingers, the beautiful _thump-thump-thump-thump_ of someone fearing for their lives. Van Helsing took one step forward and she pressed her teeth into the monk, wincing as the blood sizzled on her tongue like acid. The hunter held his hands up and she pulled back, vision going blurry for a moment.  
  
“What do you want?” The hunter asked, eyes trained on her.  
  
“Your body six feet under.” She hissed.  
  
“Well I’m sorry to say you’re going to be leaving disappointed.” He smirked, though the gesture faded as she dug her nails deeper into the monk’s neck.  
  
“How does it feel being brought down to the level of the things you hunt, Mister Van Helsing?” She challenged, inching closer and drawing blood from the hostage’s neck, letting it drip down onto his clothing. He whimpered and the hunter’s eyes were glued to hers. “You’re getting more out of control with each passing month I hear, and your church boy doesn’t seem to get any closer to a cure.”  
  
“What, did I kill one of your kind or something like that?” He asked unimpressed.  
  
“Something like that.” She growled, pulling back her sleeve to show the festering wound. Her legs faltered for a moment, her grip tightening on the monk as she struggled to steady herself. The hunter’s eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together.  
  
“If I bit you, why aren’t you dead?”  
  
“Do you think I would _be_ here if I knew that?!” She yelled, drawing more blood. “You took _everything_ from me, and you’re such a poor monster that you couldn’t even _kill_ me properly!”  
  
“I assure you if you give me another chance I’ll get it right.” He taunted. She didn’t know what she wanted more: to rip his beating heart out of his chest or to curl up and let herself die. She opted for both. “So how’s this going to end?”  
  
“With one of us dead.”  
  
She threw the monk across the room and leapt at the man, tackling him to the ground before he had a chance to grab any weapons. He used all of his strength to keep her mouth away from his neck, and if it weren’t for her weakness he would have been dead in an instant.  
  
He threw her off of him, scrambling to his feet as she sped to the weapons table, smashing everything and throwing all of the ammo out the window. He began to feel in his pockets for something else to use as she stumbled slightly, blinking away the haziness before lunging at him again.  
  
They exchanged blow after blow; him struggling to find a weapon to end her while she struggled not to let the virus win. The two of them smashed around the room, crashing into walls and furniture and breaking the table at one point. Books fell from their places on the shelves and papers were torn and crumpled and sent flying to the ground.  
  
She slammed his head against the wall and tried to break his neck, but even in his stupor he managed to overpower her. It made her crazy, how many times she could have killed him if only he hadn’t poisoned her in the first place. The monk was groaning in the corner where he began to stir, and the battle within her was reaching its peak.  
  
With one last breath her defences collapsed and the instinct took over. His neck was right there, that big vein pumping so much blood inches from her mouth. It was calling to her, tempting her like a siren’s call. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what was going to happen, but she could do nothing to stop it. She leaned forward and sank her teeth into his neck, taking gulps of his blood into her mouth.  
  
It began to sting instantly and she shoved him away, wailing as the liquid trickled down her throat and into her stomach. It was as if someone had set fire to her insides, pumped her full of gasoline and forced a match into her mouth. She collapsed against a bookshelf, blood forcing its way out of her eyes in the form of the only tears she’d been able to cry for years.  
  
“Carl!” Van Helsing screamed. She knew what was coming; and part of her was glad. The monk would throw a steak and the hunter would catch it. He took quick steps over to her, his face twisted in confusion at her reaction to the blood. He raised his hand and pushed the wooden thing deep into her heart.  
  
She cried out, digging her nails into the wooden bookshelf as she felt her life draining. She slumped to the ground, letting out a few choppy breaths before finally ceasing to move altogether. The hunter gave a heavy sigh and turned to the monk who was getting to his feet.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Van Helsing asked as the monk pressed his sleeve to his wound, shaking his head. The hunter began to walk away but both of them turned as the girl let out a wild scream, taking gasping breaths and scraping at the thing in her heart. She pulled it out, shaking, and continued to scream.  
  
Her body thrashed around in some sort of fit as she scrambled away from the men. She continued to shake, clear tears taking over the bloody ones as she stared back at the shocked faces.  
  
“What have you done?” She screamed as the men looked at one another. “What have you done!”


	2. I Held it in But Now it Seems You've Set it Running Free

The man and the monk took a step back as she let out a blood-curdling scream. She writhed around on the ground, back arching and muscles going into a spasm far worse than when she had awoken from what was supposed to be her death. The virus, it was tearing her apart. It had won, completely, and was now rolling in its victory. It hurt her, far more than anything she had ever endured. She would have been turned into a Vampire a thousand times over than have to go through one more second of this pain.  
  
And it only got worse. There was a feeling, deep within her, that started to creep towards the surface. Her lungs weren’t getting nearly enough air and her head began to spin. There was one fatal moment where it felt like her chest was collapsing, but it was something much worse than that. It was her heart starting to pump once more. It beat against her chest like a hammer and she clawed at the skin covering it, wanting desperately to rip it out. It was an itch inside of her, one that she wouldn’t ever be able to reach. She felt the wound from the stake close up and she was finally blessed with peace.  
  
She rolled onto her back, chest heaving. Her tongue ran against her fangless teeth and she tried to understand what was going on. Pushing herself onto her feet, she stumbled around and caught herself once more on the bookshelf. She was weak, incredibly weak; but not in an injured way. She was weak because she was human. There was barely enough time for her to look up at the men before her body went into another spasm.  
  
The feeling brought her to her hands and knees, every last muscle in her body feeling far too big for her skin. Her head tilted back and she let out a howl, the olive skin swelling until it began to shed away from her frame. It exposed fur as white as snow, her mouth extending into a snout with new fangs to replace the old ones. She growled and pawed at the ground, nails scratching grooves into the wood. The growls faded to whimpers as the creature—not fully werewolf nor fully human---backed into the corner.  
  
“Distract her.” Van Helsing said, all traces of arrogance drained from his expression as he spun and went searching for a weapon. The monk hesitated, doing some whimpering of his own before cautiously approaching the wolf. As he neared she began to growl again, although only half-heartedly. The distraction worked, though, and she kept her eyes trained on him as the hunter came from the side and struck the back of her head with a club. It knocked her right out and her body went limp on the floor.  
  
“What exactly just happened?” The monk asked, eyeing the wolf and then facing Van Helsing.  
  
“I have no idea.” He replied, studying the wolf with a frown on his face. “Help me get her to the basement.”  
  
He grabbed a bag and slipped it over her head to keep the teeth at bay as he grabbed her front paws. The monk grabbed the back and they carried her down three flights of stairs and endless hallways until they reached the dark depths of the basement. There was a room with a wooden door and a small barred window at the top that they led her into. She was set down in the middle of the room and the bag was taken off.  
  
“Go get a blanket.” Van Helsing ordered, tossing the bag at the monk as he scurried out of the room. The hunter stood there, staring at the wolf but knowing to keep his distance. It fascinated him; it terrified him. He had come face to face with all of the world’s beasts. He had killed Dracula, Mr. Hyde, a plethora of Witches and Werewolves and Vampires and Shape shifters.  
  
He had never questioned his actions, but he certainly did now. He could hear the beating heart from where he stood. She was hardly even a Werewolf. He had no qualms about killing a Vampire. But this girl, something had happened to make her human again for a minute, and now she was part wolf. If she could control her mind and her actions as a wolf, was there any justice in killing her? And even if she couldn’t, even if she was as mad as he was when he turned, how could he justify killing her and allowing himself to live?  
  
The monk returned with a blanket and handed it to Van Helsing before backing out of the room. He sighed heavily before draping the blanket over the wolf. The first transformation was by far the worst, and the side effects of it were nearly unbearable once the transformation reverted.  
  
“What are you going to do?” The monk asked from the hallway as the hunter squatted at the wolf’s side.  
  
“I’m going to see if she can be spared.” He straightened up and backed out of the cell, closing the door and being sure to lock it as he took a seat in front of the door.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
The men had come and gone in the six hours it took for her to wake up and eventually morph back; but once she was human again she continued to sleep, the exhaustion of the transformation taking its toll on her physically and mentally. She had gone from Vampire to Human to Wolf and back again in a matter of minutes; it was bound to do some damage.  
  
When she finally awoke it was with a whimper, not a bang. She clutched the itchy blanket around her naked body, a shiver taking hold. A fever was taking hold of her body as she tried desperately to sweat it out. Whether or not the bloody lip had been bitten as a wolf or as a human she didn’t know, all she knew was that she had to split blood out of her mouth frequently.  
  
She started to cry, curling up into a ball as best as she could. Van Helsing looked through the window and sighed before opening the door. She jumped at the sound, shrinking even smaller despite the pain, trying and failing to stop the shivering. He stopped a few feet away from her, standing his ground.  
  
“How are you feeling?” He asked flatly, eyebrows furrowing as she laughed at him.  
  
“You’re like a l-lion, batting with its wounded prey.” She said bitterly. “Just kill me now and get it over with.”  
  
“I’m not going to kill you.”  
  
“What, o-once was enough?” She challenged, still directing her voice to the wall in front of her. “I’m asking you to do your j-job and rid the world of evil, Mister V-Van Helsing.”  
  
“And the way I see it, you had your chance to kill me when you turned and you didn’t, so I think you were still able to tell good from bad. Just so happens having a moral compass is a ticket to staying alive.”  
  
“There is a difference between b-being foolish and being good.” She mumbled, using the blanket to mop some of the sweat from her forehead. She could feel a searing pain in all of her muscles, but specifically in her right leg. The hunter noticed.  
  
“Your leg is broken.” He walked closer and she huddled closer to the wall, demanding for him to stay away. “If you don’t pop it back in the wolf in you will heal it like that forever.”  
  
He was slightly irritated with the way she was behaving, but he kept reminding himself everything she’d been through. She turned to face him cautiously and as she wrapped the fabric tightly around her body he could see the fear in her eyes. It was alarming at first, to see something—someone—so scared and so willing to die. He calmly reached out and grabbed her foot, keeping his hold even as she initially flinched away. He’d seen this behaviour before, in children with abusive parents. Some people were conditioned to perpetually expect pain. She closed her eyes and braced herself as he counted down, popping the bone back into place on the count of two. No scream escaped her but the tears were evidence of the pain. She spat more blood out of her mouth and recoiled again.  
  
“What’s your name?” He asked, standing far too close for comfort. She stared at the ground, wishing he would kill her or leave her.  
  
“Don’t pretend you give a damn about me.”  
  
“All I want to know is your name.” He pressed, rolling his eyes. When she still didn’t respond he gave up, getting to his feet and shrugging out of his oversized jacket. He left it by her side before turning to walk out the door. “I’ll find you some clothes.”  
  
She watched as he made it to the doorway. “Eira.” She said, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back to face her but she looked away from him. “My name is Eira.”  
  
A few hours passed and the monk knocked on the door, introduced himself as Carl, and did a horrible job at masking his fear as he dropped off a modest meal and a pitcher of water. When he left she begrudgingly slipped into the jacket, closing it up yet still feeling exposed. The leather smelled of fire and blood, and there were very clear remnants of both on the fabric.  
  
She stared at the food for a while, unable to recall the last time she had had real food. The vampirism had removed all need for any other form of sustenance than blood; and so the oatmeal in front of her didn’t properly register as food until her stomach began to growl. She ate it incredibly quick and drank the water even faster before retreating back to her corner.  
  
The night was long and lonely, and it gave her far too much time by herself to think about everything. Of course she knew that she wasn’t ever going to kill Van Helsing, especially not in the state she’d shown up in, but every part of her was certain that he would have killed her. And then he had to go getting sentimental and sparing her out of some misplaced sense of morality. She sighed heavily, nuzzling up against the collar of the jacket and trying to ignore his scent. Whatever the transformation did negatively, it definitely boosted her senses. They were almost on par with a Vampire, just not as focused on heartbeats and blood. She could smell so much more, now.  
  
She wasn’t visited again until the morning when Carl came by with a pile of clothes. She nearly smiled at the thought of him having to go to a seamstress in his monk robes just to get her something to wear. She thanked him, by now most of the hostility having dissipated just as easily as her leg healed.  
  
“I’m sorry for biting you.” She said meekly as he hovered in the doorway. He looked shocked at her words. “I was just trying to rile him up so he would be ready to kill me. I wasn’t going to kill you.”  
  
“But you were a Vampire?” He stuttered.  
  
“Your brother was the monk in my town before I was turned. I was never going to kill you.” She asserted, looking up at him. “And I can’t any longer, so if I’m to be your prisoner the least you can do is not be so scared of me. You aren’t scared of _your_ big bad wolf.”  
  
“That’s because he always carries silver bullets around me.” Van Helsing said as he came into the room. “Get dressed.”  
  
He pulled Carl out of the room and closed the door to give her some privacy. She turned her back to the door and picked up the clothes. They were pretty similar to the ones that had been shredded during her transformation. She got dressed and folded the borrowed jacket over her arm before announcing she was decent. The hunter came back inside, slipped his jacket back on and left abruptly. The door was still open and he came back into view, looking at her.  
  
“Well come on.”  
  
He led her up stairs and around bends until he finally pushed through a big set of doors. On the other side was a large dining hall with a massive table. It was full of food. It took a moment for her to get over the onslaught of smells, but when she did her mouth was salivating. It was an entire breakfast feast.  
  
“I figured you’d be hungry for some real food.” He said, not waiting for her to follow as he took a seat and started piling food onto his plate.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” She asked timidly from her spot at the doorway. He paused, a piece of bread half way to his mouth. His eyes were focused on the table in front of him and stayed that way, even as he answered.  
  
“When you kill for a living you start looking for loopholes to do some saving instead.” He said slowly. After a moment’s consideration she seemed satisfied and took a seat at the table. She took a few pieces of food, timidly at first, before giving up all pretense of composure and grabbing whatever she longed for next.  
  
Halfway through the feast he started telling her a story, the story of how he became afflicted with the Werewolf curse and the fight with Dracula and the girl named Anna. He described the transformation in excruciating detail, and then some. Whatever she had gone through seemed multiplied tenfold when the curse was a complete one. When he was finished he looked up at her for a frightfully long time and then asked for her story.  
  
“You mean why I tried to kill you?” She asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice. He smiled.  
  
“I mean why you tried to get yourself killed.” He challenged. She took a few more mouthfuls before speaking.  
  
“I was nineteen when I was attacked. Ambushed by two vampires, Josephine and Alain. They were a couple and decided they wanted a child, but not one they’d have to clean up after. They took me the night before I was to marry. They beat me the first night I tried to run away. And the one after that. And the one after that.”  
  
He had stopped eating and Carl had wandered back into the room. She moved the food around her plate with her fork, staring at the contents.  
  
“I was with them and their coven for nearly twenty years, until they sent me out to get food on a full moon. I was bitten—but not killed—by a werewolf. Poisoned just enough to keep me from feeding for three days, during which I was disowned by the foster parents I never wanted. They called me dangerous. They must’ve known that if I died I’d become part wolf. So they kicked me out and left me to die. The process was taking too long so I figured I’d take the fight to death.”  
  
They sat in silence as she resumed eating, pretending not to feel their eyes burning on her. It was the strangest story, yes, but it was her life. There was nothing now that she could do about it.  
  
“This coven…they wouldn’t by any chance be the Vampires famous for eating children, would they?” Carl asked, toying with the fabric of his robe. She looked down at the mention of this.  
“Some of them, yes.”  
  
“Does this mean you could lead us to them?” Van Helsing asked seriously, anticipation in his eyes, bordering on excitement. The thought of seeing Josephine and Alain again terrified her, especially since they would know right away what she now was. They would smell the three of them coming from a mile away. But she figured that this was the only useful thing she could do, and if she refused she would be left alone again. And that was the last thing she wanted.  
  
“Yes, but you’ll need to know a few things about them first.”


	3. Screaming in the Dark, I Howl When We're Apart

It was an odd place to call home, even for a character like Van Helsing. The house was more of a castle than anything, and the wolf-girl wondered whether or not this place wasn’t entirely his. It could be property of the Vatican brotherhood dedicated to ridding the world of evil, and the place was only serving as temporary housing for as long as the hunter was stationed there.  
  
All of the walls were ancient stone and there were secret rooms to be discovered each day she spent there. It was the stuff of legend, with switches that revealed passages and doors hidden amidst the bricks. The soles of her boots clicked against the steps as she descended further and further into the depths of the place. It was a familiar path back to the hall of the room she’d first been kept in; but tonight the castle would host a different kind of prisoner.  
  
“Is that all of it?” The hunter’s voice echoed through the hall as she drew closer, a jingling of metal in the distance. “Why does it look like so much less than last time?”  
  
“Because you nearly broke half of them last time.” The monk said irritably, making the flame torch cast odd shadows into the hall. “This is all we have, so it’ll have to hold.”  
  
She leaned against the doorframe of the third cell on the left, successfully drawn from wondering what the cells were for in the first place by the sight before her. The monk stood to the side with the torch shedding light as the hunter picked up chains from a pile in the middle of the room. He started to weave them through the many ringlets in the walls until he arrived at the end, where a shackle hung. There were four of these chains—one for each limb.  
  
“If you wanted me tied up Mister Van Helsing, you only had to ask.” She teased despite knowing full well what the chains were for. He gave her a look before returning to his job.  
  
“You should go.” He said, all humour gone from his voice. His movements were strained, as if the curse was already taking effect. “Both of you. The moon will be full soon.”  
  
“He’s right,” The monk began, lighting a torch on the wall and exiting the cell. “You might want to find a room where you can get undressed.”  
  
“Carl!” She exclaimed in mock horror. “You’re a monk!”  
  
“I—I—I meant so your clothes weren’t ruined!” He squeaked quickly. “By the transformation!”  
  
She patted him on the shoulder and assured him she knew what he had meant. He muttered something about not appreciating her sense of humour before nodding for her to follow him. Instead, she promised she would find the way on her own and stayed at the hunter’s side. Already she could smell the wolf on him.  
  
“What are you doing?” He asked, glancing up for only a moment as he struggled to fasten one of the ankle shackles.  
  
“Helping.” She shrugged, getting one of chains and helping with the other foot. His breathing grew heavier and he started to wince. She was feeling the stirrings as well, but she knew hers were only a fraction of what he would endure. He peeled his shirt off and allowed her to help wrapping the other chains around him and locking them tightly.  
  
By the time she was done her body was forced back against the wall by what she felt coming. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it was unpleasant all the same. The hunter released a growl, though, one far more intimidating than what he should have been exhibiting at his stage. She looked up at him and watched as a panic took over his features. His muscles began to spasm and the chains, weakened and tugging at the worn concrete, began to loosen from their holdings.  
  
“Go.” He said in a voice more urgent than any she’d heard. Her mind processed that the chains weren’t going to hold, that they would have a free, roaming werewolf on their hands, that the monk needed to evacuate the building, but her body was stuck in a place of fear and evolving. His whole body began to shake and he screamed at her again. “ _Go!_ ”  
  
Her shoulder crashed into the door and she barely caught herself as she stumbled through. He released a howl as she struggled to lock the door, despite knowing that it would do no good. She began to run as fast as the transformation would allow her to; but her knees were buckling and her feet felt like they were being ripped open and her back was changing all too fast.  
  
She could hear the chains being ripped from the wall as the transformation completed, but she was only part way up the stairs and was running out of time. So she began to yell, screaming for Carl as she pulled herself up the stairs on all fours, tremors taking hold of her limbs. The monk found her soon enough, eyes wide at her state. She stuttered out a few incoherent phrases, but started to scream as the curse took hold.  
  
“ _He’s…free…_ ” She spat through gritted teeth, digging her nails into the carpet as her back arched. “ _Run!_ ”  
  
In her heart, though, she knew it was too late. There was only one option now, and that was to use what improvement in strength she had as a wolf to try and put off the attack long enough for the monk and the others to escape. The sound of the door being thrown off its hinges from down in the cellar could be heard through the whole castle, and the floorboards cracked as the beast ascended the stairs.  
  
With a cry she made the final transformation, exchanging her skin for fur and barely taking a breath before turning to face the Werewolf. He was just as terrifying as she remembered; his eyes trained on the monk. She gathered all of her strength—which was growing with each passing second—and placed herself between the beast and the monk.  
  
It was almost alarming, how much she had grown to care for the hunter and his church boy. Little under a month and here she was, risking her life for one of them. Exposing all of her teeth, she released a low growl and stood her ground as the monk said a prayer behind her. The Werewolf stopped in its tracks and as his attention shifted to the she-wolf she kicked at the monk’s heels. He was frozen to the spot, though, incapable of fleeing.  
  
The Werewolf took quick steps to the bundle of white fur and raised its paw to strike but fell short as the she-wolf howled. He looked confused for a moment, sniffing at the air and releasing a huff before focusing once again on the monk. The she-wolf stepped in front of him once more, the Werewolf looking at the guardian before turning and bursting through the nearest door.  
  
It took a few moments for the monk to snap out of his stupor, but when he did it was only to mumble about going after the beast that just tried to kill him. The she-wolf stepped in front, growling before shaking her head. It was definitely not the best idea, and he must’ve known as well because he didn’t put up much of a fight. The both of them would be thinking about the worst case scenario—that there might actually be a murder—but neither of them was capable of taking on a Werewolf without killing it.  
  
A loud scream followed by two shots set a panic in both of their hearts. It took only moments for the she-wolf to think of all she needed to do, and so in a swift movement she knocked the monk off his feet and began to drag him to one of the hidden rooms. She prayed the Werewolf wouldn’t find him in there as she locked him in and ran to get a robe for her and the hunter’s clothing. Getting a good grip with her teeth, she fled the castle and followed the mortified gaze of the attendants of the castle.  
  
There was a trail of blood leading into the forest and a path of scratched tree trunks to follow. Her heart was in a fury as she tried to ignore the fact that the bullets were probably silver. There were howls now and again, but whimpers much more often. She searched for hours and hours, unable to fathom how a wounded Werewolf could go so far.  
  
It was as the moon started to give way to the sun that she had to stop, doubling over in pain as the curse began to wear off. It felt like every bone in her body was breaking and being regrown; the muscles being pulled tight and skin peeling away to the bareness of her human flesh. She shuddered for a few minutes, regaining composure, before remembering where she was and struggling to put on her clothing.  
  
Grabbing the hunter’s clothes, she meant to make off in the direction of the trail but froze, coming face to face with the beast itself. He growled fiercely, blood dripping from his left arm as he approached. There was no wolf-guise to save her now. The beast came right up to her and pinned her to the ground with one paw, his giant claws digging into her neck and shoulder until they drew blood. He leaned close and released a roar that nearly stopped her heart.  
  
The noise slowly faded into a howl and he backed away, looking confused again before stumbling backwards onto all fours. He began to cry out and she knew he was changing back. She knew that he was bleeding and she would have to get up and help him; but she had almost been dead twice in the same night and was still frozen to the spot.  
  
When the blood began to pool in her hair she sat up, immediately crossing to the convulsing creature and draping his jacket over him as he turned from wolf to man. She barely gave him enough time to breath and remember who he was before she was turning him over and inspecting the wound. One of the bullets had gone straight through but the other was lodged just beneath the skin. She didn’t wait for permission but knelt on his shoulder to keep him down and dug her fingers into the wound. He screamed out as her fingers gripped the slippery bullet; the residual wolf in him releasing a growl as she finally pulled it out. She worked quickly to wrap a makeshift bandage over the wounds.  
  
“What the hell happened?” He heaved between breaths as she got her feet, tossing the bullet onto the ground and pressing a hand to her wounds. It was blood soaked when she inspected it and she tried to quell the bleeding. “Is that your blood or mine?”  
  
“A bit of both.” She said flatly, keeping her eyes averted from him. “We need to get back, you need to be stitched.”  
  
She didn’t wait for him to follow before setting off in the direction of the castle. The smell of blood, that had once given her such sick pleasure, now made her nauseous. Whether it was the wolf in her or the curse’s reaction to turning a Vampire, she didn’t know. The thought of Vampires made her skin crawl as she remembered what day it was.  
  
This was the plan that they’d made weeks ago; use Eira’s first-hand account of the coven to come up with the most efficient way to destroy them all. They would wait until the next full moon had passed because it made the two of them stronger without any risk of transformation. The next morning her worlds would collide; and the outcome would not be good. Something deep inside her had a very bad feeling about it all, but the hunter had made up his mind.  
  
“Oh thank God.” The monk sighed in relief as the girl stumbled through the doorway. “We feared the worst…where is he?”  
  
“He’s coming.” She promised, collapsing into a chair in the main hall as one of the attendants flew to her side. The woman seemed to be prepared for exactly such an event, for even as the bloodied hunter came inside she stayed focused. The girl tried to shoo her away, but the woman wouldn’t hear it. “Carl he’s been shot and he’s losing blood, please make her listen to me.”  
  
“But what about—”  
  
“I’ll be _fine._ ” She hissed. The monk called the woman, Maria, who begrudgingly left her side and pushed the hunter up the stairs. The monk went to the girl’s side and winced at the sight of her. “I just need a bandage…and a bath.”  
  
She disappeared for a while, locked away in the room that had become hers. Inside she cleaned up and messily stitched her wound before wrapping it up in lots of bandages. When she was finished and dressed, she leaned back in the chair and stared at her reflection. The colour of her eyes still caught her off guard every time she saw them. For her childhood they had been nothing but plain brown, and when the vampirism took over and her heart stopped they were a dark and hollow red. With one curse lifted and another given, they shone with the brightness of the moon and the yellow of the sun she had been hidden from for decades.  
  
“Eira?” There were two knocks on the door and she brought herself back to earth, announcing the door was open and cleaning up the bloodied cloths and needle and spool of thread she’d used. She didn’t need to turn to see the hunter; his scent was overwhelming and filled up the room. He stepped in front of her as she tried to move past him, pushing her hair out of the way and staring at the bandages. The proximity made her stomach turn. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Sorry for what?” She said dismissively, busying herself with reorganizing things on the opposite side of the room. He sighed heavily and took slow steps in her direction.  
  
“I almost killed you. Twice. You shouldn’t have come after me.”  
  
“Well you didn’t, both times, and I’m still standing so let’s just pretend it never happened, V.” She didn’t want to think about what could have made a rabid Werewolf stop an attack on the same person twice in two completely different forms because the only reason that came to mind was one that she feared. Almost as much as she was when she turned to find him unbearably close.  
  
“You can’t do that again.” He said seriously, taking a step closer.  
  
“Van Helsing…” She protested, looking away from him.  
  
“No matter what. You can’t go risking your life for a Werewolf.”  
  
“Gabriel.” She said more sternly, finally looking up at him.  
  
“Promise me.”  
  
She took a deep breath and sighed heavily before shrugging her shoulders. “No.”  
  
A low growl escaped his mouth before he leaned forward and kissed her. It caught her completely off guard and she stumbled back into the dresser, but his arm wrapped around her waist and kept her steady. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his neck and were tangling into his hair. The rate of her heart was sky rocketing and she had no doubt that he could feel the reverberations against his chest.  
  
It was the monk knocking on the door and asking how the girl was that made her fly away from him, racing to break free of her grasp and put as much space between them as possible. She couldn’t even look at him, just drew her sleeve across her mouth and left the room completely. She tried to fathom how one month had turned them from fighting to the death to locking lips.  
  
“Eira?” the monk called to her and she finally looked up at him, refusing to acknowledge the hunter following behind them. “I was saying that I’ve got all the weapons downstairs for the ambush and it would make me feel a lot better if we could go over the plan again.”  
  
“Of course.” She tried to focus on the monk, to ignore the scent and feel of the hunter’s presence so close behind them. She held onto her explanation of the plan as if it was her last defence. By the time she finished her run through they were down in the main room, looking over the weapons and supplies they would need for the fight.  
  
“I was trying to think of a reason why you didn’t kill her when you were a Werewolf,” the monk began, excitedly talking to the hunter as the girl picked up the different stakes and bows and arrows. “And I think it’s possible that you may have recognized her…perhaps only by scent, but something inside of you knew her!”  
  
“It was a fluke.” The girl dismissed. “He wouldn’t have gone at you if he could still recognize people.”  
  
“What I’m saying is that he encountered you as a wolf—a _female wolf_ —and must have remembered your scent even after you turned back. We’ve finally found someone he doesn’t want to kill!”  
  
“I still should have killed her as a wolf.”  
  
“You…Well I mean that…It’s possible that your…well your _mating instincts_ may have seen her as non-threatening or—”  
  
She slammed down the stake in her hand before storming off. This was not what she wanted to hear. Not at all. It was one thing for her to be joking about such things with him like she did down in the cells; it was another thing entirely to even consider that there was any truth behind it. She was here for a purpose: to help them kill the coven. It was the deal that had been worked out: she gave them information in exchange for her life and they would all try to forget about their initial circumstances of meeting. What was to happen once the coven was gone and she was of no more use? She wasn’t supposed to attached, not when everything was coming to an end…  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
“We need to wait for dawn before we can go any further.” She said stiffly, quietly getting off of the carriage and moving to a better vantage point. It was unbearably awkward being alone with the hunter, but the feeling was soon overtaken by the fear in her beating heart. She had almost grown to loathe the thing in her chest for its fluttery antics around the gruff hunter.  
  
“Are you sure this is—” She pressed her hand against his mouth and pulled them both out of sight, holding her breath as she saw a familiar face enter the catacombs ahead. Her heart rate accelerated and she prayed they were far enough away that Josephine could neither smell nor hear them. She seemed preoccupied with the half-dead human in her grasp and wasted no time dragging him into her hiding spot.  
  
She kept them hidden for a solid three minutes after the Vampire had disappeared, only releasing her hand when her heart stopped racing. There was no explanation needed for her actions, and she wasted no time in distancing herself from the hunter. The carriage was full of their weapons and a special contraption that the monk had made for them. As she ruffled through the things the sun began to peek over the hills, bathing the far end of the graveyard in a bright light.  
  
They watched and waited as the sun inched along the tombstones, getting closer and closer to the mouth of the catacombs where the coven took refuge. The place she had once, although begrudgingly, called home. It was unnatural for a Vampire to dislike their lifestyle, but as Alain had said repeatedly the first fifty years were always the hardest. The moral compass doesn’t properly erode until between the fifth and eighth decade.  
  
Alain had been the more lenient of the two, but that was how Josephine liked those she surrounded herself with: submissive. Josephine had been in a brothel before she was turned, and this had led to an overwhelming desire for power in her life as a Vampire. There was no doubt in the girl’s mind that she would be the biggest threat if things went badly.  
  
“Let’s move.” The hunter said quietly, picking up his part of the contraption and moving out. She followed quickly after, hauling her half towards the entrance of the catacombs. At the mouth they set up the first half: a large circular mirror on a pivoting stand facing the rising sun. It was intended to bounce onto the second mirror, set at the platform between stairs, and onto the three placed within the tomb itself. A triangle of sunlight would be formed around the Vampires, keeping them contained where they could be picked off one by one.  
  
She led him down into the familiar place and they set up the rest of the trap, taking care to keep their distance from the Vampire-filled coffins. They stood at opposite ends of the tomb and prepared themselves. There were thirteen Vampires in the coven, thirteen coffins lined up before them. The girl took a deep breath and raised the automatic crossbow she’d been trained with the past month, readying herself for the event. Van Helsing nodded to her before kicking the top off of one of the coffins, driving a stake into the heart of the Vampire.  
  
Its scream was enough to rouse the others, and within seconds they were all screaming, mourning the dead one and breaking out of their coffins. They looked like more than twelve, standing there with the same anger and ferocity the girl had once had. Two of them went after the hunter but stopped, hissing at the wall of sunlight. They began to fire, loosing arrows into the throng of Vampires as they tried to dodge both sun and stake.  
  
They had only five remaining when there was a loud crash—the girl looked on in horror as the shards of glass from one of the mirrors fell to the ground, breaking their best defense. Josephine, her hair a fiery red, turned to face the girl with wild eyes and a grin.  
  
“Eira.” She mused, taking steps closer. “You survived. And you’re _wolf_.”  
  
“The both of them!” One of the others hissed. Bloody tears were streaming down all of their faces at the deaths of those bound to them by their curse.  
  
“Fitting couple, I suppose.” She wiped the red from her face before turning back to address the remainder of the coven. “Slaughter them both.”  
  
The hunter didn’t wait for an invitation to kill off two more, and the girl found herself stripped of the bow and fighting two off by hand. She managed to push one off into the sun and stake it while the other, Alain, charged at the hunter. The girl looked around frantically for Josephine, but she knew her role as the prey in this scenario.  
  
“Mmm.” The Vampire came from behind the girl and pinned her to the wall by her neck. “Your heart beats with the same fury as it did when we first met. If only I had known you’d be such a burden I wouldn’t have wasted a Vampire on you.”  
  
“Burn in hell.” The girl spat, clawing at the death grip at her throat with one hand while trying to reach a stake. The Vampire was too smart for such an easy kill, though, and made short time of removing all of the girl’s weapons.  
  
“I’ll save you a seat.” She hissed, lowering the girl onto the ground and pushing her head to the side. She ran her tongue along the faded fang marks and chuckled. “Nothing is sweeter than familiar flesh.”  
  
Without hesitating any longer she sank her fangs into the girl’s neck and began to drink. It was a horrific feeling, even worse considering the speed with which she was consuming. There was no savouring: the intent was a quick kill. The girl feebly tried to fend off the attack, but each passing second robbed her of control. She felt the overflow dripping down her front.  
  
She vaguely registered the feeling of the fangs going deeper for one second before air rushing against her skin. After that her sight grew dark and she slumped down the wall. The hunter stood behind the Vampire and drove the stake all the way through her chest before throwing her to the ground. He cut a piece of his shirt off and wrapped it around the girl’s neck before picking her up and bringing her up to the surface. He felt as if it was his mistake, knowing full well that Josephine was the most dangerous and would likely target the girl out of the two of them.  
  
Both the hunter and the monk were kept out of the room while the girl was attended to and shooed away by the attendant while much-needed rest was taken. The monk was called away after a few hours and the hunter was left pacing outside her room. When she awoke she did not immediately move, but silently cried at the panic still lingering from the attack. The fact that she was back in her bed meant that they had been successful, but the image of Jospehine coming at her for the second time was still burning in her memory. When she calmed down and finished the meal that had been sitting out for her, it was nightfall once more. The moon, a sliver shy of being full, was flooding in light. Her fingers absently traced the bandage before pulling it off and feeling the marks. There were two knocks on the door and the hunter entered, sighing at the sight of her.  
  
“How are you feeling?” He asked, closing the door behind him. She shrugged in response. “Is there anything you need, or—”  
  
“When do you want me out of this place?” She kept her eyes away from him and tried to control the race of her heart.  
  
“I don’t.” He said simply. “You can stay here as long as you’d like.”  
  
She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. This was not the response she’d expected, but it put her at ease nonetheless. Her anxiety faded and she leaned against the back of her bed.  
  
“So what happened to ‘you can’t risk your life for a wolf’?” She challenged, crossing her arms.  
  
“I said _Werewolf_.” He protested, smirking and sitting beside her. It made her anxious all over again, having him so close. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t ever want to leave him. For some unknown reason she wanted to be there every time he went on a hunt or turned into a Werewolf or needed stitching or traveled the world. And judging by his actions, he wanted the same. “Look…I’m uh…I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. It was a mistake.”  
  
“Well unfortunately,” She began, straightening up and turning to face him. “You’re about to make another.”  
  
She didn’t wait for permission to bring his lips to hers, grabbing hold of his jacket as his hands plant on her waist. It took a moment for him to accept it and then he flipped them around, pressing her against the footboard and pulling her against him. Her hands worked at pulling off his jacket and the rest of his layers as he ripped at the laces of her corset.  
  
He lifted her up and she wrapped her bare legs around his waist, musing at the feel of his skin against hers as he laid her down amidst the blankets. He pressed his lips to her collarbones, getting all the places in between the cuts he’d made with claws that weren’t his. His fingers trailed up her sides and laced into hers before he reconnected their lips. Her back arched as their hips met, her moan getting lost against his lips. He pinned her hands down with a growl, her head lolling to the side as their skin brushed together. Her knees pressed hard against his sides and she shifted towards him. A low moan escaped him and he held down both of her hands with one of his while the other wrapped under her back.  
  
Her breathing was fast and shallow, her nails digging into the back of his palm as his growl reverberated into her chest. He released her hands and sat up, taking hold of her waist and pulling her against him while she tried to keep quiet. When she could no longer stand the coldness of her chest she pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, plastering their bodies together. The sweat kept her hair stuck to her head as he rested his forehead against hers. She released a growl of her own and bit the side of his shoulder, shaking. His arms wrapped around her quickly, keeping her in place as he moaned against her skin, their hammering hearts sending the same message to each other as they finally collapsed back against the bed.  
  
“What was that you were saying about wanting to be tied up?” He teased, smirking as she nudged him.  
  
***  
  
“Eira! Eira! You’ve got to come see this!” The sound of the monk at her door was the only thing that tore them apart, the both of them searching the room for their clothing. He had nearly destroyed her shirt but she pulled a jacket on to hide the back and sent the monk away so that they could both sneak out. He was waiting for them in the main room with two large vials of something in his hand. He was absolutely giddy with excitement, the smile so wide on his face she wondered if it would ever come off. “I think I’ve done it!”  
  
“Done what?” She asked, crossing her arms across her chest as though she were still naked. She felt as though just being beside the hunter would make obvious what they’d been doing.  
“A cure! I think I’ve finally perfected the formula!”  
  
“How do you know this isn’t going to end up like the others?” the hunter asked skeptically, causing the monk to roll his eyes and break from his happiness.  
  
“I’m a monk, not an idiot.” He said irritably. “The test results were positive. So?”  
  
He held out the vials for them both to take and they cautiously approached him. Each taking one in hand, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows. He shrugged, raising it for her to toast.  
  
“To the howl.”


End file.
